


Reaper's Scythe

by nothingeverlost



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Gen, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor JJ Jareau just wants to go home, but the FBI has some questions first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaper's Scythe

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ community 'cmpromptmeme' AU, Jennifer Jareau as a surgery intern. Takes place during 5.01 Nameless, Faceless

  
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](http://tinypic.com?ref=2naquds)   


After twelve hours of standing on her feet, all JJ wanted was a hot shower, hot coffee, and food, followed by hours of dreamless sleep. The fact that someone was paging her, however, probably meant that at least three of those things weren’t happening anytime soon.

“Someone paged me, Celia?” JJ asked when she arrived at the nurse’s station.

“There’s some questions about your unscheduled surgery this morning, Doctor Jareau. I tried Doctor Krupp first but he’s gone already.”

“Probably on his first cigar and second glass of wine at the club by now.” JJ rolled her eyes at the nurse, who smiled in commiseration. Krupp wasn’t a bad guy, but he did worry far too much about knowing the right people and being seen in the right places. “Who was asking questions? I swear if it was the billing department...”

“Not billing; Special Agent Emily Prentiss, FBI.” It wasn’t the nurse that answered but a voice behind JJ. She turned and found a woman in a suit holding up a badge for her to see. The stance said professional but the expression in her eyes was of exhaustion to rival JJ’s own.

“This is about Agent Morgan, I assume? I don’t know what I can tell you but I’ll answer any questions that I can.” Yup, that hot shower and sleep was getting farther and farther out of her reach.

“His name is Agent Hotchner. I need to know any details you can tell me about his stabbing.”

“Do you mind if we take this to the break room? I’ve had four surgeries today and barely enough time between them for a bathroom break. You have the eternal gratitude of my feet if we can sit down while we talk.” She wondered why his files said Morgan, but since it had little to do with how his chest healed it didn’t make much difference to her.

“Lead the way.” The agent waited with barely noticeable impatience; fortunately the break room was designed to be near the nurse’s station. At least she could have the coffee now; she stopped at the machine and poured herself some of the sludge that had been there for god only knows how long. With enough sugar and milk it didn’t really matter; it was hot and it was caffeinated, and with the addition of protein bars it was the basis of her diet when she was working. After a moment’s hesitation she poured a second cup, just as sweet and light.

“You look like you need this too.” She set the mug on the table across from her, where the woman had chosen to seat herself, a position JJ hoped had more to do with practicality then interrogation.

“Thanks.” There was a pad of paper on the table, but the agent didn’t look down at it or pay any attention to the pen. “You performed surgery on Agent Hotchner this morning, correct Doctor Jareau?”

“Please, call me JJ. Are you hoping to learn something about the weapon that was used in the attack? I’m afraid that’s not much to tell beyond the obvious. Those techniques you see on forensics shows require molds to be made, something that’s not possible when a patent is, thankfully, still alive. It was a knife, a sharp one, and more than five inches long judging by how far into the chest cavity some of the dissection was.”

“The weapon’s not important. We need to know everything we can about the man who stabbed Hot- Agent Hotchner.” The slight slip only confirmed what JJ already knew; the man in recovery was far from being just another case. This was personal, and unless she was terribly off base it was about more then just being a hurt cop.

“I don’t know anything about the man.” JJ shook her head and downed half of the mug of coffee, fighting to keep her eyes from drooping.

“The things we do and the way we do them reveal far more about ourselves then we know, JJ. For example you poured me a cup of coffee without asking, even though it’s at the end of your day and you’re exhausted. Good manners and hospitality are something that’s so ingrained that you don’t even think about it. You’re not southern but I would guess that one of your parents is.”

“My mother,” JJ confirmed.

“You also touched your necklace when we first sat down, as if checking that it was still there or using it as a touchstone. It’s not new; there’s a slight discoloration in the chain. You haven’t fussed with it since then, or before, so it’s not uncomfortable. Someone important gave it to you some time ago, didn’t they? A special gift.”

JJ frowned and resisted the urge to touch her necklace again. The FBI agent wasn’t wrong in anything so far. “What do you think I can tell you, then?”

“You tell me. Think back to the surgery this morning, imagine you’re in the OR again. What do you see? What’s your first impression?”

“There’s a lot of blood.” She closed her eyes, thinking not of the man that was lying on the table, but only the wounds themselves, a rectangle of mangled skin that needed to be put back together like a puzzle, it they could. She flinched, briefly, remembering the only other stabbing she’d seen that was this bloody; that man hadn’t made it.

“What are you seeing now?” JJ was too caught up in remembering to wonder if she’d reacted enough for Agent Prentiss to see.

“The nurse is sponging away the blood. We’re trying to ascertain the worst of the damage but something is off.” JJ’s hands move against the table as if she’s back in the OR.

“Off?” Prentiss probed.

“The bowel is punctured, but the rest of the wounds are mostly in the muscle or the fatty tissue. How do you stab a person nine times in the chest and not hit an organ or collapse a lung?” JJ’s eyes flew open, understanding dawning. “That’s what you were looking for, isn’t it? What he did tells you who he is?”

“Yes.” The agent had relaxed slightly as they talked, but at this new bit of information she was tense again, ready to use it if she could.

“He knew what he was doing. The person who did this wasn’t trying to kill, they were trying to inflict as much pain as possible.” For a person devoted to easing pain it was hard to comprehend. “Why would he do that?”

“Control. Pleasure. Revenge.” Prentiss shrugged, finished her coffee, and stood. “Then there’s the real answer.”

“The real answer?” JJ asked.

“Evil, Doctor Jareau. Some people are simply evil.”


End file.
